


a first morning

by kintou



Series: Mornings. [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kintou/pseuds/kintou
Summary: Waking up next to someone new is always special and scary. When Marco wakes up next to Jean he knows he wants to make something nice out of it. How? Good coffee, breakfast, a fluffy cat, morning breath kisses.





	a first morning

I was laying on the other side of the bed. This is something I immediately notice when I wake up; the subtile light coming through the window was closer, I could feel the wind against my face when it would usually hit my back, the children screaming while walking to school were heard with my different ear. But more than all of those things, there was someone laying on my side of the bed. Someone was pressed against my back. A nose was pressed against my neck, the breath hit my ear. 

  
I tried to bring back last night. I tried to bring back the other man without waking him by turning around . I had been, to say the least, way too drunk. He had been too, I guess.  He had seemed like the guy who didn’t usually go to parties either. For different reasons than I; he seemed like he hated being social like that. He had been glad when I asked him if he wanted to get away from the party (something I wouldn’t have done sober, or even when I was just drunk, but I was hammered). We couldn’t have gotten away quicker, while hiding from our mutual friends.    
And now I’d have to face him. I loved mornings, by myself, with friends, but I didn’t know what kind of breakfast he liked. I didn’t know how bad his hangover would be. I didn’t know anything about the guy.

I really wanted to see him. 

I moved away from him, then turned around. He whined about it, reached out sleepily. There he was, and damn, he was prettier than I could remember him. His hair was ash colour, messy from the pillows he was laying on top of and in between. His cheek was pressed up by the pillow, making him look cute too. The sleep looked needed. He had bags under his eyes, frowned.

Could I reach out and touch his face? Yesterday I had touched him all over. I could see hickeys on his neck, the knots I had made by pulling his hair. I dared to bet I looked the same; like someone made love to me, tried to mark me without knowing me. Still, even touching his face to wake him seemed scary. 

Thank you, drunk me, for bringing someone this beautiful home. 

‘Uhm..’ I had forgotten his name. I reached up and touched his face. All he did was lean in, he smiled a little. It took him a while to realise that this hand was not familiar, but I saw him slowly realising it. Backing away, opening his eyes, his heart suddenly beating fast. 

At first he just stared at me, then he said: ‘fuck.’ 

What was that supposed to mean?  

‘It’s just me.’ I whispered. What did I mean by that? He had no idea who I was. He looked shocked. Didn’t he remember going home with me? Did he regret coming? Maybe he was in a relationship. No, no maybe he had work to go to? That ‘ fuck’  could mean so many things. 

He studied my face. 

‘ Just you..’  he whispered. His gaze made me nervous. ‘Marco.’  He leaned into the hand on his cheek again. He had remembered my name. ‘Goodmorning.’  

‘I’m sorry for waking you.’  Judging from the light outside it wasn’t that late yet. 

‘’s fine.’ He put his arm against my chest. Studied my skin, every freckle on it, then he touched slightly red shoulders. ‘Nice..’ he whispered. 

‘Y-Yeah?’ I asked. 

‘C’mon.’ He pulled my a little bit closer, against him. We were both butt naked. His skin on mine felt nice. His upper body was small compared to mine. He didn’t mind, he had closed his eyes and was snoring softly. Big chance he had been half-asleep while talking to me. That was fine. His legs were pushed in between mine. I let my toes travel over his feet. Let my hand slide into his hair, and while he fell asleep again, I caressed his hair. Once in a while I’d touch a sweet spot without noticing it. He’d smile slightly, or moan a bit.    
The light coming through the window was becoming brighter and warmer. That was alright. My stomach was starting to howl a little. I usually ate an early big breakfast. I focussed on his breath, a little bit faster than mine, and wondered what he’d like to eat. 

 

I noticed he had woken up because his heart started beating faster, his breath became less steady, his body became a little stiff. I didn’t know how to handle that, so I just kept on stroking his hair, his neck, his ear. He didn’t move away. Sometimes he’d lean in a little bit, so that I knew that he was awake, probably. 

‘So I was wondering,’ I started, he hummed, ‘what do you usually eat for breakfast?’

‘Hmm, coffee.’

‘I have coffee, but what do you eat?’ 

He pulled back a little bit. ‘Coffee.’ 

I frowned at him, he smiled back. ‘You do not just drink coffee for breakfast.’ 

‘I bet’ya I do.’ he mumbled.

What to do with a guy like that? ‘You need to eat breakfast.’ 

‘Yeah sure.’  He stopped looking at me and looked around my room. He stared at my big window without curtains, at all the plants I had standing around my bed, at the books I had laying on my nightstand. He was getting to know me by looking at my house. I felt like I had no secrets, because of the way he looked at my room. I wished I knew what his room looked like. I wished I knew him the way he knew me now. 

I pushed the sheets off me and stepped out of the bed. He stared at me, at my back and shoulders, then at my naked ass and my dick;  he blushed and looked away. I blushed because of the way he looked at me, picked my underpants from the floor and took a big shirt from the closet. I also threw a shirt and a sweater at him. They landed on the bed. 

‘Thank you.’ he mumbled.  

‘I’m going to make you breakfast.’ 

‘You don’t have to.’ 

I smiled at him. He was sweet. He sat up straight to look at me. ‘I want to. Anyway I’m hungry.’ 

‘I’ll come.’ He stood up and pulled on the shirt and sweater I had thrown at him. ‘Comfy.’ 

‘It’s one of my favourites.’ 

He blushed at that. I didn’t notice why what I said meant anything.  ‘H-have you seen my pants?’ 

I lifted the blanket for him. He looked under it, pushed it to the side too, shook his head. Then he walked to the pillows and pushed those away. His underwear was lying between the load of pillows I had on my bed. ‘How the hell..’ he mumbled, while putting on his underwear. He knew how it had gotten there; we had taken less than two seconds to get naked yesterday.

He followed my to the kitchen. As soon as my cat, thick and long haired, George, started following him. He didn’t seem to notice. I chuckled. 

‘What?’ 

‘Look behind you.’ He stopped and looked over his shoulder, while I walked into my small kitchen.

‘Oh holyshit! You have an cat?’  He stopped walking and started cuddling the cat. ‘He’s so thick.’ He sat down. George immediately walked on top of his lap. Making the grumpy, not even catlike, noises he always made. 

‘His name is George.’ 

‘You did not call your cat George,’ he laughed. 

‘That was already his name. I adopted him.’  

He turned back to the cat. He seemed to know what to do with cats. George hit him with his head, over and over again. ‘Hi George, I’m Jean.’ 

Jean. His name was Jean. 

He smiled brightly while cuddling with my cat. I felt like touching him again. I know that it’s not okay to be jealous of your own cat but- damn I wanted him to smile at me like that. 

Before I took out the ingredients for breakfast I put on a record. I made a quick guess at what Jean’d like and eventually decided on some slow, sad jazz. Some Chet Baker sings. He hummed along with the song. That made me warm inside.    
Yesterday we had chosen each other because of our looks, careless, with lust. Today was to figure out if we actually worked together. With every second I saw him waking up more and more inside out my house I wished we would work. Maybe we could. 

‘You like Chet Baker?’ 

‘Yeah.. I really do.’ 

I took some eggs and put them in a cooking pan, then I opened the package to make croissants. Jean stood up, pushing George off him softly. 

‘Can I help?’ 

‘No, not really.’ 

‘Good, because I can’t cook.’

I laughed. ‘That’s fine. I like to.’ 

‘I can make coffee, though.’ 

‘Sure.’ I pointed to the cupboard where he’d find the coffee. ‘I hope it’s coffee you like.’  I always bought dark roast. 

‘Oh!’ he said while holding the bag of filter coffee. ‘You don’t often see people who buy good coffee like this.’ When I looked at him he was grinning so brightly that I couldn’t say a damn thing. He was beaming just because the coffee was good. I must have blushed bright red. I felt my face heat up. ‘You really know how to make a man fall for you.’ he joked. 

‘Yeah?’  Come on- Marco, it was a joke.

Jean put the coffee in one of my filters. ‘Actually, yeah; a cat, making breakfast, good coffee.. I like what you have going on.’ 

I chuckled. ‘Glad to be off your service.’ 

He looked at me. ‘Not that- just you- you’re not- I mean you’re really pretty, real nice.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

He mumbled something I didn’t hear. I stopped rolling the croissant and looked at him.

‘What did you say?’

He blushed. Coughed softly. ‘I said- uhm- feels like a real home.. Safe.’ 

A warm feeling spread through my whole body. He blushed and went back to making coffee. Took the boiler and started pouring water into the coffee filter. Avoided my gaze. 

‘Jean, can you put the hot water down for a sec?’, I said, walking up to him slowly. 

‘Wait one second.’ he poured a small bit of water and then put the boiler down.

I put my arms around him, pushing him against the counter softly. I kissed his neck. He squirmed in my arms to look at me, turn around, then he put his arms around me too. 

‘Touchy.’ he said, barely complained.  

‘Can I kiss you?’ 

‘You’ve already kissed me, why ask now?’ 

‘Because we’re sober. I- I feel like I’m kissing someone new, kind of.’ 

He smirked. ‘Yeah I guess.’  He raised an eyebrow. “So?’ 

‘Hm?’ 

‘I thought you were going to kiss me.’ 

‘You hadn’t said yes.’

He rolled his eyes dramatically and laughed. ‘Hurry up, so I can drink my coffee.’ 

I kissed him softly, first. I pecked his lips. He was shivering. I took his hand, he squished it. 

‘Are you okay?’ I asked. 

He pulled back a little bit. ‘Sorry.. I haven’t had a.. one night stand in a while.’

‘You want this to be a one night stand?’ 

‘That’s what it is..’ 

‘But I like having you around.’ 

He swallowed. ‘I’ll come again then. Yeah. I’ll hang around.’ 

I grinned brightly, pushed my nose against his. 

‘Stop grinning, I’m going to make coffee.’ 

‘Let me kiss you once more.’ 

This time I pushed my lips on top of his roughly I felt his back hit the counter. He didn’t complain about it. I pushed him on top of the counter so that he was sitting, kissed him roughly and deeply. He moaned, grabbed a handful of my hair. He tasted like early morning. I bet I did too. 

 

He started over with making coffee, because all the coffee he had made had become cold. 

‘We can just make coffee with the machine. I bet I have some coffee pods laying around somewhere. I don’t use it often, but it’s fast.’ 

He took a look at my old espresso machine; cringed.  ‘You know what, I take back what I said about liking you a little.’ 

‘You never said that,’ I grinned. 

‘Then, I’m not going to.’ 

‘You kind of did now.’ 

‘I take it back.’ 

‘You don’t have to drink coffee from the machine if you don’t want to.’  I put my hands on his hips, easy as that. He was too concentrated on the coffee to even notice, it seemed. 

‘Alright, I take taking back that I kind of like you back.’ 

I laughed, kissed his hairline. I liked the colour of his hair. It was so dark that it could barely be called blonde anymore, except from the tips. It matched his personality.  The sound of the oven softly hummed over the sound of Chet Baker singing, the croissants were starting to become a little bit brown. He was right about my apartment feeling safe, at home. I always felt it but it was strong now, with him here. I kissed his ear as soft as I could. 

‘Marco..’ he warned. I chuckled. ‘If you think you’re going to drag me away from my coffee again, you are wrong.’ 

‘I’m not trying to.’ 

‘But you are, so stop kissing me.’ 

He pushed me away. I laughed. ‘I’m hurt.’ 

‘Don’t be a baby. Kiss me when the coffee is done. Go cuddle George or something.’ 

Still laughing, I started laying the table. My kitchen table was only big enough for two people, but it was fine to me. I lit some small candles, one to put the coffee pot on. 

He put the coffee pot on top of the holder carefully. ‘This romance you have going on at the table is going to make me cringe the entire meal.’ 

‘I don’t really care.’ I said while sitting down.    
He walked up to my chair, leaned down, and kissed me softly. ‘The coffee is finished, so-’ I pushed his lips against mine again. ‘But it can still get cold-’ I kissed him again, a smile on my face. ‘You’ll have enough time to kiss me, c’mon.’ 

I let go of him and grinned. ‘Alright, drink your coffee, kiss me again when you finish.’’ 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> Comments make me happy (: 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: pastelgays  
> And on Instagram: theekom


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